Hexeneinmaleins
by LightofEvolution
Summary: When the Master left the book, the key to everything magic, unsupervised, Hermione hoped her chance had come to read in it. After all, she was only paid for cleaning up the Master's house, but one glance couldn't hurt, right?


**Alright, I am a bit excited to post this, even if it's just a one-shot.**  
**First of all, I want to thank my beta, niffizzle, for taking her time to work with me even though she has a LOT to do and encouraged me to post this. She is awesome! All remaining mistakes are my own.**  
**Another thanks to all the patient people I have shown this to and thought it wasn't terrible: sarena, Frumpologist, LadyKenz, and Kyonomiko.**  
**This is a non-profit thing and no copyright infringment is intended.**

**This story was inspired by "Hexeneinmaleins" by Schandmaul**

* * *

He had left it.

The _book_.

Hermione couldn't believe it.

The Master had left the book on its typical place. It lay on the high desk, facing the middle of the circular room, the thick leather of the binding shining from use, highlighted by the fire.

She entered the room carefully, listening to the sounds in the house. She couldn't get caught. Practising magic, even touching magical items, was strictly limited to the Guild of Sorcerers. There would be hell to pay if someone saw her now.

But Hermione was well acquainted with the house since she regularly cleaned it for its owner. She did the same for other rich people in the village. Sometimes she cooked for them; sometimes, she took care of their children.

She needed to survive, after all. As an orphan with no relatives that she knew of, she could only rely on her own resources. Of course, she could have stayed in the monastery where she had been dropped off when her parents had died. The nuns had always been kind to her and even taught her to read and write.

But spending her entire life behind high stone walls? That wasn't what Hermione had in mind. She had a "wild soul," as the Abbess had once dubbed it. There was a force in her, the kind woman had explained, driving her to go outside and explore the world, no matter what any man told her. Naturally, the last bit had been spoken in hushed tones.

Although, now it was four years later, and Hermione was still stuck in the village, barely getting by, unhappy to oblige to the rules society had forced upon women — those of lower standing especially.

Maybe her chance had finally come.

The Master usually guarded the book with wards and enchantments when only she was left in the room. But this time, he had left for a trip to the next town, not expected back for an entire week, and had forgotten the wards. Hermione could feel it. It was unprotected, no magical shimmer surrounding the pages or the desk. Maybe it was a test for his apprentice?

She couldn't let this chance pass. Inside the book laid the power over magic. Enchantments, hexes, runes, numbers - curses.

Carefully, she tiptoed closer to the priceless item. Would she be able to use the magic words?

Hermione knew she had at least an inkling of magical talent. She could make things happen to people who threatened her. Of course, it could never be traced back to her. But she had made things disappear, tableware that had broken when it had slipped from her fingers. And she had accidentally set parts of the monastery library on fire — she just had been so excited when the Abbess had shown her some ancient scripts!

Once, she had even had a pleasant talk to a small snake in the garden.

But the book? The book _called _to her.

It made her fingers itch to touch it, to speak the words she had seen the Master working with. Ever since she had started working for the Master, she had wanted to read the book. It tickled her senses, a gentle, seductive hum in the back of her mind, whenever she entered the room to clean.

She wanted to try it herself. At least those enchantments she knew one didn't need a wand for. The potent piece of wood, Hermione was aware, the Master had taken with him, always carrying it close to his body.

Finally, she stood in front of the desk. She slowly lowered her fingers on the paper, half expecting it to go up in flames or burn her. But nothing happened, and so she closed her hands around the book's edges. The page it was open to, she identified, was about curses of high complexity.

She filed through the book, growing more fascinated with the turning of each page.

_Aguamenti_ \- a spell to create water. Very handy, but requiring a wand.

_Tarantallegra_ \- a curse that made the recipient dance. Hermione snorted in amusement, thinking of applying it to the Master. Making the quiet, controlled wizard dance should be a sight to behold.

_Sectumsempra_ \- for enemies. She didn't really have those, did she? She wasn't important enough to be anyone's adversary.

_Avada Kedavra_ \- the killing curse. Abbess McGonagall would surely disapprove.

Then, she found something she wanted to try.

_Wingardium Leviosa _\- the Levitation spell. Executed with a swish and a flick of the wrist and one of the basics of every sorcerer as the text explained. The sketch next to it showed a feather that was levitated in small circles. Did that mean it was best to try it with light objects first?

Not wanting to risk messing up the spell, Hermione opened the pouch fastened to her belt. She always carried a goose feather quill and a small notebook with her to keep track of her assignments and finances.

She placed the feather on the desk in front of her and reread the description. "Swish and flick," she murmured to herself. "That shouldn't be too difficult, right?"

Inhaling deeply, she enunciated clearly, "_Wingardium LeviosA_!"

Nothing happened.

Disappointed, Hermione stared at the book again. Maybe the pronunciation hadn't been correct?

A swish and a flick. "_Wingardium LeviOsa_."

Like a perfect circle suddenly closing, Hermione felt something sweeping through her, exhilarating, completing her.

_Magic._

And the feather bid to her will. It soared, slowly but steadily, until it nearly touched the ceiling.

Hermione almost laughed out loud. A slight turn of her wrist commanded the feather to sail down to its former place on the desk again.

A triumphant smile on her face, she started turning to the next page, hoping to try another spell.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione's heart nearly stopped beating when she heard the voice from the door.

Draco, the Master's apprentice.

"Again: what are you doing, woman?" The tall, blond man had his wand pointed at her. His black and green robes gave him an air of strength, and Hermione knew he wasn't to be trifled with.

He was from a powerful and rich family from the South West, sent to the Master to learn the craft. Spoiled he might be, but the Master appreciated his work discipline, his wit and talent. Just recently, Draco had earned the permission to wear the Master's mark, making him an official part of the guild of sorcerers. The serpent on his arm was a clear status of power among the society of wizards, and Draco was proud to wear it.

And now he had caught her. His piercing grey eyes were focusing on her, and Hermione slowly raised her hands.

"Nothing!" she lied. "Just dusting the books off like usual."

"Nonsense!" Draco reproached. "I heard you talking!"

She tried to even her breathing, an effort to make her appear innocent. "Well, I was simply talking to myself. A habit."

"Don't lie to me, Hermione!" It was the first time he ever addressed her by her name.

"You know my name?" She was honestly surprised. Even the Master mostly referred to her as "girl" or "maid" just as everyone else did.

But Draco only shrugged. "Of course I do! You've been coming to this house for over two years!" Finally, he lowered his wand before stepping a bit closer, eyeing the open book.

"This is not the page the Master ended his lecture on in the evening," Draco remarked, tone accusing.

"I must have turned some pages over when cleaning then. The wind, for sure."

"No. You were trying your hand at practising magic, right?"

Hermione didn't reply, not looking him in the eye. She couldn't lose this employment.

"_Am I right?"_ he suddenly boomed, with much more force and power than she had ever expected from him. Then again, she had never seen him working magic, either.

With a move that was so fast that Hermione more felt than saw it, Draco produced his wand and fired a hex at her. Reflexively, she raised her hands, expecting the sting of the magic to hurt her.

Instead, the hex collided with a blue shield, emitted by her hands.

She gasped. That must have been a Shield Spell produced by her - if involuntarily.

"That's what I thought," Draco assessed grimly, rounding in on her. "You lied to me."

"How can I not?" she countered, more forceful than intended. "I know I am not allowed to, but the book lay open, unprotected, and I just had to try!"

Now that the truth was out in the open, the wizard relaxed his posture. The tension in the room all but evaporated, cueing Hermione to admit, "I think I might have a bit of magic in me."

Draco seemed so much taller now that he stood directly in front of her. "And then you tried some spells? Did you overhear the Master saying them?" he asked, but Hermione knew he already suspected the answer.

"No. I can read them."

"Interesting." He inclined his head, his curiosity evident.

Hermione felt exposed, but in a too pleasant way. Draco's scrutinising gaze stoked something in her; no one had ever looked at her like that. No one ever had _looked _at her before.

"Let me?" He waited for her nodded consent until he enclosed her hand in his and muttered something under his breath.

Sparks travelled over her skin to where they touched.

"You are a witch!" Draco assessed, voice low as if he had uncovered a sacred secret.

"Am I really?" she asked, not too surprised. A lot of things made sense now, like the snakes talking to her.

Draco let go of her hands and was quiet for a bit, pondering. Then, he reached for one of the curls that had escaped her bun and tucked it behind her ear. The slight touch of his fingers against her skin made her shiver. The magic in him was close enough for it buzz against what she believed was her own. But he held so much more power than she did.

For now, at least.

"I want to teach you," Draco stated, and Hermione's heart soared. "We'd have to keep it a secret, though," he quickly added. "My apprenticeship isn't finished for another two years, and I am not allowed to teach anyone yet, much less a woman." He exhaled sharply. "But you're worth it." He lowered his hand, not without trailing it lightly over the skin of her cheek, causing heat to bloom on her cheeks. "My magic tells me."

Hermione grinned at him, curiosity and giddiness sizzling through her like a swarm of bees. "You won't regret it." She held his gaze, "I promise."

Draco's lips curled into a smirk that held a magic of its own. "I sincerely hope so, _witch_."

That day changed _everything_.

For Hermione and Draco, first of all.

For the Master, the Guild of Sorcerers, and the way they had lived for centuries.

For England.


End file.
